en the eyebrows) of the figure which is on your left as
you stand opposite to the fireplace, then press the head inwards as if
you were pushing it against the wall behind. By doing this, you set in
motion the hidden machinery in the wall which turns the hearthstone on
a pivot, and discloses the hollow place below. There is room enough in
it for a man to lie easily at full length. The method of closing the
cavity again is equally simple. Place both your hands on the temples
of the figures; pull as if you were pulling it towards you--and the
hearthstone will revolve into its proper position again.

'You need read no farther,' said the Countess. 'Be careful to remember
what you have read.'

She put back the page of vellum in her writing-desk, locked it, and led
the way to the door.

'Come!' she said; 'and see what the mocking Frenchman called "The
beginning of the end."'

Agnes was barely able to rise from her chair; she trembled from head to
foot. Henry gave her his arm to support her. 'Fear nothing,' he
whispered; 'I shall be with you.'

The Countess proceeded along the westward corridor, and stopped at the
door numbered Thirty-eight. This was the room which had been inhabited
by Baron Rivar in the old days of the palace: it was situated
immediately over the bedchamber in which Agnes had passed the night.
For the last two days the room had been empty. The absence of luggage
in it, when they opened the door, showed that it had not yet been let.

'You see?' said the Countess, pointing to the carved figure at the
fire-place; 'and you know what to do. Have I deserved that you should
temper justice with mercy?' she went on in lower tones. 'Give me a few
hours more to myself. The Baron wants money--I must get on with my
play.'

She smiled vacantly, and imitated the action of writing with her right
hand as she pronounced the last words. The effort of concentrating her
weakened mind on other and less familiar topics than the constant want
of money in the Baron's lifetime, and the vague prospect of gain from
the still unfinished play, had evidently exhausted her poor reserves of
strength. When her request had been granted, she addressed no
expressions of gratitude to Agnes; she only said, 'Feel no fear, miss,
of my attempting to escape you. Where you are, there I must be till
the end comes.'

Her eyes wandered round the room with a last weary and stupefied look.
She returned to her writing with slow and feeble steps, li